


Losing

by prettyvk



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dialogue-Only, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post A Scandal in Belgravia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyvk/pseuds/prettyvk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post A Scandal in Belgravia. Johnlock. All dialogue. Just getting it out of my head.</p><p>  <i>“Is it such a horrible prospect? Being with me, I mean. I know I’m hardly the poster child for relationships of any sort. But you’ve found it… good? To be my friend?”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Perder](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3876745) by [lasobrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasobrina/pseuds/lasobrina)



> Also available as a [photo comic](http://prettyvk.tumblr.com/post/62355257360/i-thought-putting-it-down-as-a-dialogue-fic-would) on tumblr.

“She’s gone, then?”

“Who?”

“You honestly need me to answer that?”

“Do you need me to answer that yes, she’s gone, when you can see it with your own eyes?”

“I didn’t mean gone from the flat. Gone, as in case solved. Off to wherever it is she plays her mistress of pain games.”

“I don’t believe she’ll find it easy to do business when her life is under constant threat.”

“And by that you mean… her protection is gone? The phone?”

“Unlocked and in Mycroft’s hands, yes.”

“What was the password?”

“…”

“Sherlock? What was the password?”

“Nothing important.”

“But you figured it out.”

“Of course I figured it out.”

“And you’re already bored? Usually solving a puzzle like that holds you at least a few days.”

“Who says I’m bored?”

“I’ve lived with you for long enough to be able to tell when something isn’t right.”

“I’m not bored.”

“Okay. What are you?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“Why does your mental state matter to me? Oh, that’s a hard one. Let me think. Why would I care in the slightest about my friend’s state of mind? Hmm. Bearing in mind of course that the last time Irene Adler exited his life he was absolutely heartbroken. Nope, can’t fathom why I’d care.”

“Heartbroken? Me? Of course I wasn’t—”

“Then what? If you weren’t heartbroken then, if you’re not heartbroken now, what are you, Sherlock?”

“You’re jealous.”

“Of course I’m not jealous. I’m curious. I just want to know if I’m in for more of the same. Days on end without talking. Or eating. Sad violin in the middle of the night.”

“You are jealous. You were jealous the entire time she was in the flat. Why?”

“I am not jealous!”

“She thought so too. When you met her, New Year’s Eve. She said you were jealous.”

“You were eavesdropping that long?”

“You always get defensive when someone implies you and I… when they imply we are…”

“More than friends?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Why do I get defensive?”

“Yes. Is it such a horrible prospect? Being with me, I mean. I know I’m hardly the poster child for relationships of any sort. But you’ve found it… good? To be my friend?”

“I am happy and proud to be your friend, yes.”

“But not more than a friend?”

“Sherlock, you… How did the conversation get to this? I was asking how you are. How is it we’re suddenly talking about this?”

“Annoyed.”

“What?”

“That’s how I feel. My state of mind. What you were asking about.”

“All right. Annoyed because she’s gone?”

“Annoyed because of something she said.”

“…”

“She said… Jim Moriarty has a pet name for me.”

“…”

“Apparently he calls me ‘the Virgin.’”

“And that’s what annoys you? Why? Because it’s true?”

“Why would you assume it’s true?”

“You’re annoyed because it’s not true, then?”

“Because I cannot fathom why it would be of any importance to anyone. Why anyone would think my sexual history has anything whatsoever to do with who I am.”

“That’s what people do. What they gossip about.”

“People are idiots.”

“You might have mentioned it once or twice, yes.”

“You think it’s true.”

“I have absolutely no opinion on the question. I just…”

“You just what?”

“I just noticed the death glare you leveled on Mycroft when he took a swipe at you on the subject. Then again it is Mycroft, and you look at him like that often enough.”

“I embarrassed him. He was trying to return the favor. Very inelegantly, you have to admit.”

“It did sound somewhat below his level. And with that, I’m off to bed. Good night.”

* * *

“Good morning. Tea?”

“I answered your question.”

“Hmm?”

“I answered your question. Are you going to answer mine?”

“Which was…”

“Which was whether you’d find the prospect of a dalliance with me ghastly.”

“That’s… not the word I’d use, no.”

“What word would you use?”

“Sherlock…”

“That’s my name. Not an adjective.”

“And yet in my mind some things are definitely categorized as Sherlock. Like body parts in the fridge. That’s very Sherlock. Why are there body parts in the fridge again? Didn’t we talk about that?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I am, yes.”

“Why?”

“You tell me. You already know why. You always know every little thing about me, don’t you? I bet you can tell from the way I hold my cup.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. From the angle of your shoulders. I know you’re deflecting because the topic makes you uncomfortable. I don’t know what you’d answer if you stopped deflecting.”

“I’m trying to remember the last time I heard you say ‘I don’t know’. I can’t actually—”

“You’re deflecting again. Not ghastly but unthinkable, then.”

“Unthinkable, yes. As in, I do not let myself think of what it might be like. Would you care to know why?”

“…”

“No? All right. I’ll tell you anyway. When we first met. When you took me to Angelo’s. Remember that or did you delete it? I asked you if you had a girlfriend or boyfriend. And your exact words were ‘I consider myself married to my work.’ I don’t make it a habit of thinking about married people as available. And if someone isn’t available, what’s the point of imagining myself with them?”

“Does that mean you would imagine it if I retracted that statement? Why would you? As you’ve been telling an alarming number of people, you’re not gay. Unless we’re looking at a severe case of denial. Are you in denial, John?”

“I can quite truthfully say I never looked at a man in that way. Until I got to know you. Does that make me gay?”

“As you enjoy the company of women, I’d think the term is bisexual.”

“Even if I enjoy the company of women in general and exactly one man? Is that still being bisexual?”

“I… I don’t think I’m qualified to make that judgment.”

“Wow. First ‘I don’t know’ and now ‘I’m not qualified,’ all that in the same conversation. That nickname really upset you, huh?”

“Nickname? Oh. That. Who cares what Jim Moriarty thinks? I certainly don’t.”

“And here I thought that was what this whole thing was about.”

“You thought wrong.”

“All right. What is it about, then?”

“…”

“Come on, Sherlock. You’ve put me under a microscope and had me admit things I’d rather have kept private. You can’t just—”

“Why? Why would you rather have kept them private? As they concern me, one would think I’d be the ideal person to share these things with.”

“Married to your work.”

“And if I wasn’t?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course I am. Doesn’t mean I can’t cheat.”

“You’d cheat. You.”

“In the right circumstances, yes.”

“And what are the right circumstances?”

“You are. Obviously.”

“There’s nothing obvious about it to me.”

“Surely you’ve noticed I…”

“You what? Pined after a woman you thought dead? Held on to her phone like a talisman? Tried to impress her in any way you could when she came back? Yeah, you could say I noticed.”

“So you were jealous.”

“Of course I was jealous. Don’t act like this is news to you.”

“You denied it before.”

“Are you enjoying this? Fucking with my mind? Of course you are. It’s all a game to you, isn’t it, Sherlock? Everything is always a bloody game. And you don’t give a damn if anybody gets hurt as long as you win.”

“John, I—”

“I’ve got a late shift at the surgery. Try to eat something, would you?”

* * *

Angelo’s. 7pm. Could be dangerous.  
SH

* * *

“So?”

“So what?”

“What’s the case?”

“There is no case.”

“You said it could be dangerous.”

“Matters of sentiment usually are.”

“Matters of… You ordered champagne?”

“Good observation. Do you see anything else?”

“I see a candle. But it’s Angelo’s. There’s always a candle.”

“Indeed.”

“You’re wearing your sexy shirt.”

“My what?”

“Don’t pretend you’re not aware of the way that shirt clings to you. And what the color does to your eyes.”

“You like it, then.”

“That’d be why I call it your sexy shirt.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well, yeah. I don’t exactly go around announcing to the world I enjoy looking at my friend in his purple shirt, do I?”

“Aubergine.”

“No, chicken parmigiana, I think.”

“No, the shirt. It’s more aubergine than purple. I’ll have the chicken, too, Angelo.”

“Are you actually going to eat?”

“Doctor’s orders.”

“Since when do you listen to me?”

“I always listen, John. Do you?”

“I thought I did. I’m suddenly wondering if I missed entire conversations. Then again, given your habit to keep talking even when I’m not there, that’s entirely possible.”

“I don’t like it. When you’re not there, I mean. It’s easier to pretend you are.”

“You know, I think that might be one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.”

“I’m not a nice person. I don’t say nice things.”

“I live with you, Sherlock. You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”

“But you don’t mind.”

“That you’re not a nice person? Yeah, I do mind. Sometimes. When you make it a point to be cold or cruel to people who’ve done nothing to you, I do mind. But most of the time that’s not what it’s about, is it? You just can’t be bothered to pretend. Which means, you can’t be bothered to lie. That, I don’t mind. Not too much at least.”

“I… I pretend all the time.”

“For cases, sure. To get information out of people. That doesn’t count.”

“…”

“What?”

“You always manage to surprise me. That’s… unsettling. And fascinating.”

“And you claim you don’t say nice things.”

“I…”

“You’re blushing, Sherlock.”

“It’s… I can’t…”

“And stammering now.”

“And you’re stating the obvious. Stop mocking me.”

“I’m not mocking you. I’m just not used to seeing you flustered. Especially because of me. That’s nice. Nicer than when you were flustered because of that woman, in any case.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She didn’t fluster me.”

“Yeah. Yeah she did, Sherlock. She got under your skin. I was there, I saw it quite clearly. I observed, as you’d say.”

“I didn’t ask you here to talk of her. You’re deflecting again. Uncomfortable?”

“More like, terrified.”

“You? Terrified? Of what?”

“Of what’s going on here. Of losing my best friend. Of ruining one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You believe it’d end badly.”

“I believe you have a limited attention span. I believe once you uncovered everything there is to know about me, you’d get tired. And I believe things would never be the same if we went there and had to come back from it.”

“You said you didn’t let yourself think of those things.”

“I didn’t use to. It was a slow day at the surgery.”

“So… in one day you’ve decided… what? That I’m not worth the effort?”

“Not worth… God, Sherlock. Way to twist my words. What I said was, I don’t want to risk losing what we have.”

“What if I told you it’s not going to happen? You’re not going to lose anything.”

“You can’t promise me that. No one can make that kind of promise. Being in a relationship changes everything.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I figured as much after you moved in with me.”

“That’s not being in a relationship, Sherlock.”

“You’ve seen me at my best and my worst. You cook for me. Make me tea. Tidy up after me. Help me in my work. Take care of me. Worry about my health. Let me know when my actions are less than acceptable. You’ve never, not once, called me a freak. Or a sociopath. Or anything of the sort, really.”

“Not calling you names doesn’t mean we’re in a relationship.”

“No? What would it take, then? Sex? Would sex make this official? Everyone already believes us intimate, despite your repeated denials. Even your girlfriends thought so.”

“You do realize this is the most surreal conversation in the history of ever, right?”

“And you’re not answering my question. Again. You’re making all this more difficult than I thought it’d be.”

“All this? What’s ‘all this’? Seducing me? Taking me to the restaurant for an actual date? Is this what’s going on, Sherlock?”

“Is it working?”

“Tell me why. Why now. If you really believe we’ve been in a relationship all this time, why would you want to change things now? Is it because of that ‘Virgin’ thing? You said it yourself: who cares what Moriarty or Irene Adler think?”

“Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side.”

“See, now that’s a very Sherlock thing to say. Much more than calling what we have a relationship.”

“I said that to The Woman when I figured out the password. I was being cruel. On purpose.”

“Again. Very Sherlock of you.”

“Is it very Sherlock of me that I’ve identified the same defect in myself and for once I don’t mind all that much being on the losing side?”

“That… that is indeed a very Sherlock way of saying what I think you’re saying. If what you’re saying is—”

“It is.”

“All right. Okay. Good. I mean, me too. I’m defective too.”

“I know you are.”

“You say that, but this morning you had no idea what I thought.”

“That was this morning. I’ve had the whole day to think it over.”

“Of course. You’ve taken an entire day to dissect my feelings.”

“More like, four hours.”

“Even better.”

“And that’s how I know you’re wrong.”

“About what, now?”

“About me getting tired of you. How could I ever tire of someone who continuously surprises me?”

“You just said it only took you four hours to—”

“Only? There’s no only here. When have you ever known me to need more than four seconds to ‘dissect’ someone’s feelings?”

“Oh. Okay. But that still doesn’t explain why you’d want to… to change things between us.”

“I think it’d make you happy.”

“You think having sex with you would make me happy? You… only you, Sherlock. Only you could say something like that with a straight face.”

“And only you would laugh when I said it without being mocking in the slightest. And also, I think it’d be satisfying for me as well.”

“You do, huh?”

“Your girlfriends wouldn’t put up with you as long as they do if you weren’t a dedicated lover.”

“Girlfriends, Sherlock. I have no idea what to do with a bloke.”

“You had no idea. But you’ve researched the subject, haven’t you? Wasn’t that the point of those threesome porn clips you looked for on the internet? Not quite able to bring yourself to watching gay porn, so, threesomes. Two males, one female, who often ends up on the side, like an accessory.”

“Okay, one, would you lower your voice? And two, you need to stop looking through my browsing history. Especially after I delete it. No, Angelo, no dessert, thank you. It was delicious, as always. Good night.”

* * *

“You’re upset.”

“The word you’re looking for is embarrassed, Sherlock.”

“Why should you be? I find it… endearing.”

“You find it endearing. You. Endearing. You find my porn-watching habits endearing.”

“I find it endearing and surprising and fascinating that you’d alter your habits because of a potential relationship you claimed you didn’t allow yourself to think about.”

“Only you, Sherlock. Only you.”

“Only for me?”

“That too.”

“…” 

“…”

“I am, by the way. If it matters to you.”

“You are what?”

“A virgin.”

“Oh.”

“So we’d be learning together.”

“Learning? Is that what it’s about, for you? Another experiment?”

“I told you what it’s about. Losing.”

“And you really want to lose?”

“With you? Against you? In you? Yes. I think that would be all right.”

“And I think we could make it a bit better than all right.”

“So you want to?”

“God yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Translated in Italian](http://www.efpfanfic.net/viewstory.php?sid=2170752&i=1)


End file.
